


Shiloh and Biew

by Kenta



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Gen, Gunplay, Leather, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenta/pseuds/Kenta
Summary: Shiloh and Biew have a western duel and then something more happens.





	

Shiloh was confident despite his size and what most people tended to think about him. In a word he was awkward, the fat kid in class that most would pick on or make fun of to raucous applause. His stomach stuck a little and his head was round in that way you'd almost expect, topped with dark hair. His posture suggested an interesting gait and a love for video games or something less than athletic. But his confidence was unflappable. Maybe that was why he was dress the way he was. Having always been intrigued by the Old West and cowboy stories he was dressed in the manner of a cowboy but with a few additions of his own design. Even without being there he felt the hero in his own mind.

The vest he wore was leather, jet black and barely covering his stomach. The boots were the same color and had spurs in Shiloh's attempt to strive for authenticity. This was evident in the Colt 45 Peacemaker that hung at his hip and tied to his leg with a leather thong. Of his attire the only thing that seemed out of place was the leather pants, something that not many cowboys had ever worn. Somehow the material of it felt good against his skin even in the warm weather. Even without the hat and a shirt he looked the part of a cowboy. He thought it may have been the steely glint in his brown eyes or the cigar he'd been chewing on. Its smoke plumed into the air as Shiloh tried his best to play Clint Eastwood or some other tough guy he'd seen before in his favorite movies.

"Tough as shit..."

It was what he'd been mumbling to himself as he stood staring at his opponent. He looked at him through a particularly large puff of smoke, smirking more to himself than to his quarry.

"He doesn't even know what's about to happen to him. No idea."

His rival and opponent was Biew. In looks Biew was exceedingly odd in both looks and mannerisms. There was a almost sinister sort of manga look to him if that were possible in a person.. You could easily see that he was exceedingly slim with his blonde hair complimenting an offputting set of angles that made up his face. Despite his waspish frame he was muscular and tall. His smile was impish, almost evil in such a way that most would associate with a Saturday morning cartoon. Everything about him was meant to be uncomfortable, weird even.

He wore close fitting pants of a heavy leather and no shirt. His waist was accentuated by a full cartridge belt while each of his arms held a few extra catridges around each wiry bicep. Gloved hands were at the end of each arm, leather just like the pants were. The leather pants were accompanied by looked to be leg warmers and finished in wingtips. It was an insane collection of apparel but it fit his style well.

But of all of him his eyes were the greatest oddity. Behind them there was a darkness that wasn't hard to see but was strangely difficult to put a word to.

But Shiloh had tried, but with more than one word. He'd taken to calling it "a deadly, heavy darkness" that was playing behind his eyes when he looked at someone. That look was strong on him as he looked back at Shiloh, a large blunderbuss at his hip as he continued staring.

"You sure you wanna do this, Shiloh. You'll never beat me...not now, not ever."

Shiloh laughed then, his stomach shaking slightly as the mirth increased the longer he laughed. It took another minute before he stopped, looking back at Ian with his attempt at being as cool as those heroes he'd seen in his favorite films. That could be heard in what he said next.

"I never fear what I don't really respect. I'm sure you're fast...but I'm faster. Believe that."

Biew chuckled, speaking his venomous retort.

"Only thing I believe is that I'm about to lay you down. Respect me or not...you'll die all the same."

The retort set Shiloh back a little. Biew hadn't yelled or even put out any false bravado. He had been concise and in his thoughts, concise was dangerous. Dangerous was what he wanted so he tried for concise amid his fears and the nerves of the moment.

"Enough talking. Let's draw."

The seconds passed between their two glares. Then the drawing came. Shiloh had trained himself to be fast with constant draws against mannequins and target practice. But when he went up against the real thing he found that he was just a little too slow. Biew drew his cannon a whole six seconds faster and Shiloh paid dearly for that with the shot that hit him squarely in the stomach. Blood bursts from him and peppers the air in momentary splashes of crimson that decorate the sand, Biew's bare chest, and Shiloh as if her were the canvas. Its impact pushes him back heavily, forcefully even as Biew slowly lowers his still smoking double barreled wonder back into his holster. Shiloh's feet are suddenly unsteady beneath him as the blood flows in a gushing geyser from the stomach wound. A step is taken backwards, followed by a few more quick stumbling footfalls in reverse that make move back. They were a backwards staccato that made him hit a nearby fence roughly, finally falling to the ground in a heap of defeat and still flowing blood. Biew looks at him coldly, almost unconcerned with the effects his weapon had had on him. His only real reaction was a shrug and few words.

"I guess that's that...told you how this shit was gonna end."

He'd have walked away from the prone form that was at this point a fountain of quickly pouring blood had he not heard the voice. He immediately recognized Shiloh's voice, mostly because of the apparent arrogance of it. But it was different. The wound and the prospect of his dying had made it sound strained, almost desperate. Biew turned back and looked at Shiloh. He was still gushing blood but he had somehow gotten himself up into a sitting position. His words were...well, in Biew's mind, they were Shiloh or at least his attempt to maintain himself for whatever time he had left.

"Couldn't finish the job could you, you monster?"

Biew chuckled softly, more from seeing that the cigar was still in his mouth than the words. The words had incensed him. He replied with a matter of fact sort of tone...or as close to it as he could muster with his anger rising.

"I finished you just fine. You're either too proud or too stupid to understand it. Shame for you, really."

Through the pain and the blood that he was losing Shiloh struggled breathlessly and managed half of that arrogant laughter once more. Maybe it was the pain in him that made it sound that much less menacing to his own hearing. Once the laugh subsided he stutters slowly and desperately, the latter being a new thing for Shiloh.

"No...no...shame. I understand. I was just giving....you one last spark of....b-b-bravado for posterity's s-s-s-sake. I figure I don't have too long...so I wanted...to give you...something to.... r-r-remember...greatness by."

Biew laughed, loudly and cruely. It kept up for a while until Biew walked towards Shiloh, kicking his gun away. Shiloh smirked slightly as he spoke again.

"Y-y-y-y-you...worried about...about...a dead man?"

"I'm no fool, Shiloh. Momma always said that be careful of a dead man because he may have a live dog in his pocket."

"Sound...advice."

"I thought so, too. Besides...I have plans for you before you punch that final ticket."

This statement was a menacing thing and even though he was dying Siloh had enough life in him to recognize it for what it was. But Shiloh was powerless to stop it, whatever it was he had planned. As if to soothe his soul a bit he merely contented himself in smoking on the cigar clenched between his teeth. Biew sat next to him, conversing with him as if they had been friends forever. He casually noticed Shiloh's hand covering his still bleeding wound and felt an overwhelming.

"Shiloh...those cigars are gonna kill you one day, you know."

"R-R-Really? Oddly...enough, the cigars told me...the same thing...about you...should...should...have listened, I guess."

"Maybe..."

The cigar was taken from his mouth and Biew took a long few drags on it. Once he was done, he looked back at Shiloh. The look wasn't kind.

"And now...before you die...I defile you in the worst ways imaginable. Should be fun..."

And Biew continued to pull on the cigar, his dark eyes surveying the bleeding form of Shiloah. The inspiration struck him and his feet began moving before he knew what was going on. He stops once he had reached Shiloh's revolver lying discarded in the dust. His hand picks it up, aimlessly wiping the dust away with a free hand. The chamber is opened and the heavy bullets fall from it with a dull thud. Biew smiles as he walks back to Shiloh. The smile is just as menacing as the one before but closer as he kneels next to him. Shiloh's vext is opened almost lovingly, exceedingly carefully even. The way the barrel was shoved into the still bleeding wound was, conversely, nowhere near gentle. It was forceful and it made Shiloh wince and scream in pain louder than when he'd been shot. The process was punctuated by a disgusting squelching sound and the blood staining the barrel of the revolver.

Biew licks the barrel, a malicious grin on his face. It shook Shiloh so much that he struggled again to speak again.

"W-w-w-what...?"

The pistol quickly comes up and slaps Shiloh across the face, breaking a few teeth in his mouth. He spits them out in a torrent of blood, saliva, and chipped pieces of tooth. Biew replies simply, no shortage of malice in both what he said and how the words were said.

"Shut up. To the victor goes the spoils, as the old adage says. I am the victor. You are the spoils. You're dying, anyway...you have no more rights."

Without another word the barrel is pressed into the wound once more, this time digging into the wound by at least a half an inch into him. Shiloh weaks tried to fight both the pain and Biew but failed as his arm is pushed aside and falls weakly at his side. Growing bored with this Biew removes the barrel and licks it clean. Blood stains his lips and his teeth as he throws the steadily fading Shiloh another sinister grin.

"Don't die on me yet, Shiloh. The fun's only just begun."

Biew's definition of "fun" was thus far making more pain for Shiloh. He was hoping to end it. That was the reason why he reached for the blunderbuss that had put a hole in him. But Biew was ready for him, swinging it out of his reach and punching him in his stoamch wound.

"Naughty, naughty. Looks like I have to punish you...again."

The punishment was swift and vindictive. The cigar he'd stolen from Shiloh's mouth was still in his mouth and he removeit after a deep pull. He takes the lit end and burns the wound. Shiloh screams again and this time Biew strokes himself through his leather pants, utterly aroused by the yells of pain. He kept burning Shiloh around the rim of the gaping wound, whispering in his attempt at being sexy.

"That's it, baby...scream for me."

Shiloh, weak though he was, wanted nothing more than to not yell out. But between the wound and the flame at the tip the cigar he'd once called his he couldn't. The yells kept coming from him and Biew was driven closer and closer to ecstasty by them. There was a moment after the cigar went out some minutes later where Shiloh was convinced that it was over and maybe Biew, having gotten his bit of arousal, would let him die in peace.

The next words Biew hissed out showed him how wrong he was.

"And now for the knife and something new..."

A deadly looking blade appears at his pronouncement. It was maybe about nine to ten inches with a six to seven inch blade. It wasn't curved or malevolent in its general appearance. But the way that Biew held it, the way he almost caressed it made it as dangerous as it was. Shiloh watched as Biew walked somewhere behind him. It was a frightful thing to lose sight of such a person but he was oddly happen when he heard him in his ear as he spoke again.

"Let's get rid of these pants, Shiloh..."

The sound of the blade ripping through leather. Within a minute or two the leather pants Shiloh were in pieces nearby him. Cotton was easier to cut than leather so the briefs he'd been wearing were gone in seconds. Biew stood then, walking towards the front of Shiloh. For a while he just stares openly after the half naked Shiloh bleeding on the floor. His eyes were closed as if he were on the verge of his final breath. This upset him and he bodily shook him as he whispered in his ear once more.

"If you think...I'm gonna let you die before I get mine...you're a fucking fool."

That statement threw Shiloh as he slowly opened his eyes. He was confused by it but he didn't have long to be confused by it. In an instant Biew contorted and roughly twisted Shiloh until he was on his knees and his face was in the dirt. Through a space between his thighs he saw his blood dripping and Biew unzipping his leather pants slowly. **He's gonna rape me** , Shiloh thought. This thought made him try one lst time to master some strength. But as before it was stopped almost instantly.

"Don't fight this..."

And Shiloh found that he couldn't as Biew slid roughly into him.

Shiloh felt the tears roll down his face as felt Biew invade his ass with rough force. Biew could have eased into him, allowing Shiloh to get used to the thinkness and the length of him. But this wasn't about love or intimacy. This was about humilation, power, and making Shiloh's death a humilation. The fact that it felt so good to Biew was something of an added bonus. He let out a

"Oww...stop..."

Hearing how much pain he was causing Shiloh was the drug that kept him going and kept the rough thrusts repeating. He had his hands gripping him and he leaned against Shiloh's back, whispering in an oddly intimate way.

"Mmmm, I am loving fucking this tight ass..."

Everything about this aroused Biew more so he slammed into Shiloh rougher. By this time Shiloh's face was covered in tears and a small puddle of blood was forming under him. Death was coming quickly and Shiloh welcomed it. The strokes continued for another few minutes until Shiloh felt his body go and his breathing slow. The words were his final ones, ones filled with relief.

"At last. Peace..."

Somewhere in his fervor of fucking he noticed that Shiloh had stopped crying and he had stopped moving altogether. **This bitch is dead** , he thought. The fact that he had died before he could cum angered him more than anything else could have. But the anger made his thrusts harder and more vicious. He rationalized it with a loud pronouncement to the now dead Shiloh.

"You may be dead but I am gonna finish...believe that, you piece of shit."

Strokes were being thrown with reckless abandon as he kept at it, chasing the climax that he was coming closer and closer to.

"Almost there..."

After about fifteen minutes of this he was still fucking fast and rough. Intermittently Biew would lean his body against Shiloh's corpse, biting his skin hard. He'd grow angry again when he got no response and go that much faster in spite of this.

"Take me deeper..."

Another few minutes come and Biew feels his orgasm in his balls. He slides himself from Shiloh and cums all over his face, drops of it hitting the dirt. A satisfied groan escapes Biew as he zips up and stands.

"Rest in peace, you trash..."

He nudges Shiloh with his foot, picking up his weapon and leaving him amid the dirt, the cum, and the blood.

 

 

 


End file.
